The young man stood as Usman sat to the right of the older man, who seemed more interested in his rosary than what Usman was saying. Usman knew this was just his style, despite appearances the old man's aging brain would be crunching through the possibilities before them. A kind and compassionate man, is what most who met him considered him to be. Perhaps it was the carefree white kurta or perhaps it was the greying beard, or perhaps it was the soft round eyes but something about the man would put people at ease. And then there was his speech, words of precision and accuracy unparalleled. As with any other reasonable university in the world, there were those that disagreed with him, a newer breed especially was now preaching a more aggressive gospel. Such energy had to be harnessed, the younger folk were fired up with something or the other as usual. It was a full time job keeping them pre-occupied and productive. The men in Pakistan had taken a different approach - that approach would not work in India. It was a question if it even worked in Pakistan, but still after the partition, people had decided to make independent choices, and that had itself closed the door to certain kinds of discussion. Despite warnings in the 80s, a few ambitious fools had taken it upon themselves to pander to the dictates of the brown sahibs that the Angrez left behind. The fallacies inherent in this approach were now all too visible. What was once a quietistic search for inner peace, a battle against the innermost sources of fear had turned into a vulgar and all-too-bloody form of exhibitionism. Such is the peril of the way of bloodshed, once you set yourself down it, it becomes nearly impossible to turn away from it. These things would weigh heavily on the old man's mind. There were rumors about his illness or perhaps it was the growing pressure of the times with all that was happening in the world, but the old man was taking longer to come to decisions.

He finally sighed and turned to the younger man who was standing and said, "Why don't you sit down too..." The Younger man complied. The younger man was another enigma, enjoying a reputation and a popularity far beyond his years. His classrooms were filled to capacity and people would stand in the halls to hear him speak. From across the world Ulema would come spending precious funds to hear his words. Pilgrims coming to the shrines of the saints would also make it a point to visit him and hear his evening lectures. The serenity of the town only seemed to grow with his mere presence there. And yet all this seemed to have had no impact on him personally, his austerity was natural, his words sparse.

The older man began to speak, Usman began to pen down his words. The speech lasted fifteen minutes and Usman looked up steadily at the younger man. After a pregnant pause, the younger man simply replied, "Okay I will go right away." With that the meeting ended and after exchanging greetings. Usman and the younger man left. As Usman's car left the campus, he made a telephone call to the PMO, a Joint Secretary picked up the line and soon Usman gave additional instruction. An hour lated in shady courtyard of a small town near near Jamnagar, Police Inspector Chavda found himself sitting in front of his mentor, the lord of the Kandla underworld, Anees Shah. Police Inspector Chavda was about to petition Don Anees for a favor. This was an odd thing for Chavda to be doing, but the people from the CIU who had trooped into his office an hour ago didn't seem to be in the mood for arguments. Being corrupt as sin could be, PI Lalit Chavda couldn't really have argued with the CIU people anyway and then there was the senior looking plainclothesman who simply said "Jo bol rahe hain woh kar - nahi toh upar jayega.." (Do as you are told or you will "go up".) With luck Don Anees would not refuse him otherwise Chavda was looking at a very delicate situation. Luckily Don. Anees agreed and Chavda breathed a sigh of relief. In twenty minutes he returned to his office and found the CIU men waiting there for him. The plainclothesman was sitting on his chair. The CIU man said, "Gadi mein baith - we are going" Again Chavda found he didn't really have a choice.

After a drive to Nalia police station, PI Chavda found himself facing a fifty-year old man who looked quite religious and government bureaucrat in his gray safari suit. Chavda was puzzled but the men all drove off in an unmarked vehicle towards a equally unremarkable house in the city. Once inside the house the CIU men and PI Chavda nearly had a heart attack when they saw the men waiting for them - the religious man was certainly taken aback. Only the plainclothesman and the government bureaucrat were unfazed. Samir and the boys had made an impression again. PI Chavda was now baffled. Turning to the CIU guys he asked, "What's going on?". The CIU guys eyed him angrily but said nothing. Finally the plainclothesman spoke, "Chavdaji, you are going on a little trip" and with these words, the briefing began. PI Chavda's jaw dropped when he heard what was being asked of him - and to think his uncle paid 10 lakh rupees to his supervisor to get Lalit transferred from the traffic department to the Crime Branch!!... all for this!.. what would his uncle think now..

Don Anees was a man of his word at 8 pm the motorized launch appeared on the Kandla coast, and PI Chavda, the religious man, and Samir's gang climbed aboard. After about two hours, the coastline of Karachi loomed ahead. The religious man was clearly not used to travelling in this way and for some reason, the well built Afghanis accompanying him insisted on keeping one finger on the triggers of their Ak-47 machine guns. Finally around 10:30 pm the launch made land at a secluded private beach east of the Karachi coast. PI Chavda was met by Talibuddin, Don Anees' landing agent in Karachi. Tali was even more puzzled than PI Chavda. After some explanations, Tali agreed to take Chavda and his party to the destination of their choice. This was easier said than done, considering that between them and the destination lay three divisions of Pakistani security forces but Tali knew his way around and only the dumbest idiot in the Karachi Police or Rangers would insist on stopping a vehicle with occupants that looked like this. After a rather circuitous drive - the Suzuki minivan lurched to a halt at a mosque with a green gate in Banuri Town. The guards at the gate eyed the occupants suspiciously but then finally the religious man spoke, and the guards were reassured. After some discussion the gate opened and the men passed inside. PI Chavda and Tali waited just inside. The Mini van was also parked inside, no sense in attracting attention. Inside as the khatib prepared for the Azaan, a Maulana walked into the courtyard and greeted the religious man and embraced Samir and the boys. A round of adaabs and As-salaams followed. As the group walked across the courtyard, in the distance one could see the young boys in the madrissa getting ready to perform the first prayer of the day. After a short walk the men reached a house set into the side of the courtyard and knocked on the door. The door opened and the men walked in. In the house was another old man, also wizened, also grayed and he greeted them. After another round of pleasantries, the men began to speak - Samir and his boys withdrew to the corners of the room.

After about an hour the talk ended, and the Man from India got up and offered his thanks. After performing the first prayer of the day, the group left as quietly as it came. By 9:00 AM. the next morning, Usman, the religious man, PI Chavda, Samir's gang, the plainclothesman and the CIU people were all having sweet tea and biscuits at the guesthouse at Nalia AFS. Their flight - an unmarked learjet landed shortly after. The CIU guys walked off in one direction and the rest boarded the plane which took off pretty quickly.

A tired PI Chavda rubbed his neck and wondered two things, firstly, how was he going to get home, and secondly what was he going to tell his wife....

I will post the next part tonight. I had better go easy on my favourite cat icon - two verified sightings of mountain lions near my office this week(20 miles from boston!!). the beasts have already killed deer and are suspected to be living in abandoned quarries.

The walk to my car parked at edge of a forest could be a scary one I need to conduct a act of "strategic brilliance" and move the car into a well lighted spot before dusk falls here.

MT Singha wrote:I will post the next part tonight. I had better go easy on my favourite cat icon - two verified sightings of mountain lions near my office this week(20 miles from boston!!). the beasts have already killed deer and are suspected to be living in abandoned quarries.

The walk to my car parked at edge of a forest could be a scary one I need to conduct a act of "strategic brilliance" and move the car into a well lighted spot before dusk falls here.

Well, if that cat wants you, he is gonna get you .. Not much you can do. Don't roll over and play dead like you would do with a bear, fight like hell. Coz if he is coming after you, he/she would like you for dinner. But if it hasn't started on humans, its unlikely it will start now... Just don't look like you are after the leftover meal he is hiding in the bush..

With your strategic knowledge of places near and far from Boston, and your tactical skills that you've learnt over so many years at BR and other place, and with all our good wishes, I'm sure you made it safely back to your car and to your home. Now, when can we please, please have the next installment?

the throttles on his big plane and felt the gradual buildup of
speed as his mount accelerated between the twin rows of light
vanishing into the fog less than 500m away.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his wingman Das start his
roll and match his leaders takeoff speed. Guwahati had a long
3Km runway and they were using a conventional run not the
seat-of-pants 500m airshow takeoff that people so liked at airshows..
less wear and tear on the engine by lightly using it except where necessary.

To his right he saw the IAF part of the airbase flash by - located
at the southern corner of this mixed-use facility it was a sprawling
setup, used in peacetime for helicopter and transport sorties. Now
the arrival of an additional AN32, #20 Lightnings and air defence
batteries had turned things upside down. There were some revetments
for parking a.c - bordered on 3 sides by concrete walls backed by
earthern berms but no HAS. there had never been any money to build
HAS'es in the eastern sector - the more high profile bases in the
west cornered most of the scarce construction funds. To tide over
the situation, crews were working day and night to build more
revetments atleast, using quick setting concrete mixes and pre-fabricated
casting structures. A blaze of lights marked out this area as bulldozers
and levellers and scores of shouting labourers worked in shifts day
and night.

As usual, India never prepared well for the next crisis he thought
sadly.

Putting these thoughts behind him ...he eased up on the stick and
climbed into the darkness. The four cones of red flame climbed steeply
and soon faded into the low clouds at a ceiling of 1200ft over the
Rani reserve forest to the south.

At 38 yrs Abraham was the oldest sqdn leader in the entire IAF!!
a set of circumstances had conspired to keep him at this relatively
humble station for a person of his age. All his batchmates in pilot
school were at higher ranks than him and a few had left the IAF to
pursue careers in civilian aviation.

At pilot school he had been outstanding, and had progressed through
the ranks easily rising to a sqdn leader at earlier than usual age.
his performance at TACDE FCL set a new benchmark for high scoring in
ACM and even his much senior instructors felt a little intimidated by
the young turk.

Flying had never been a problem for Mr.Abraham, everything else in
life was.

Son of a syrian jew spice farmer in the kerala ghats, he had enjoyed a
peaceful and if somewhat lonely childhood at his fathers farm tucked
away in a green valley in north kerala. education had been at a decent
catholic run school 12km away where the hills ended and the coastal
plain began. His mother had passed away from a sudden illness when he and his twin brother Manoj were just 4 yrs old. His father had married
relatively late and the pressures of managing the farm alone and two
young boys started to get to Victor abraham. A person who had shunned
God and drink previously, he suddenly 'found' both. His health started
failing after a few years as the potent local liquor kept gnawing at
his innard. Alone, unloved and neglected the two boys had tried to get on
as best as they could. Kindly locals helped with some money here ,
some bushels of food there....

When they were 12, Victor finally fell to cirrhosis after a brief
illness. Kindly Father Thomas at the catholic school finally found a
solution to the orphaned boys situation. They were sent to a school
cum boys hostel for disadvantaged children run by the missionaries near
Cochin.

Greedy 'relatives' appeared from all quarters to carve up the farm,
then disappeared with the spoils of war. Inspite of Father Thomas's
best efforts, the corrupt local land records office conspired to have no
land deed in the late Viktor's name. With a silent prayer, Father
Thomas saw off the two crying boys at the bus station.

The hostel near cochin was not a bad place. It was clean, safe, the
accomodations and food were not luxurious but functional and the
Fathers and Brothers ran a tight honest ship. Education was seen as the only way up for the children and hence was stressed upon.

Manoj, the more jovial and socially well adjusted of the two quickly
learnt the new environment and began to outshine everyone in the
hostel. Not surprising to have a talented but down on luck kid, but this was made somewhat unusual because Manoj started to do math and science for classes *5 years* senior. Jacob however while bright progressed per his own age. Being twins they were close and shared a unspoken bond, but as time went on it became apparent that Manoj was really *special*. The not-so-special brother began to get less and less attention in the vulnerable teen years. Jacob retreated more into himself..an ongoing process since their mother passed away.

At 18 yrs, Manoj scored a AIR #13 in JEE and was carried in a procession
by his hostel juniors and bedecked with flowers. The hallowed gateway
of IIT-Madras opened to welcome the talented newcomer. Jakob, alone
and depressed fell into drinking and faded out from the scene. Kindly
Father Thomas however got wind of the situation and came over to
visit. After some councelling, Jacob finally agreed to try his hand
at entering the armed forces to instill some discipline into his
life.

Like a fish first introduced into the water, he had taken some time
to get the 'feel' of his environment...then realized he was BORN
for it and started to move more strongly. His confidence, intelligence
and meticulousness long overshadowed by his boy-genius brother now
came bubbling out. He had graduated top of class in every course
during training school. But he was now arrogant, outspoken, demanded
answers to tough questions and was contemptuous of anyone not at
his same standard. A training school not being a democracy and
needing some degree of camaraderie between all levels of pupils
frowned upon individual 'stars' - stars were dangerous, unpredictableand not deemed useful in a force increasingly geared towards co-operative large formation attack and defence postures. People
skills were valued and considered necessary for advancement up the
ranks.

In the early part of his career jacob was well liked by his seniors
and some backers and god-fathers existed higher up the hierachy
who 'looked after the boy' and helped ease his path up the ranks.
As in any large org, it was necessary to have god-fathers AND display
good performance to move up the ranks. But as time went on and Jacobs
avrasive and combative behaviour did not moderate, these seniors began
to lose confidence and withdraw their 'support'. The last straw
had come a few years ago in 2005 when despondent after a rejected
proposal by the petite daughter of his base doctor, he had a short
and very hot affair with a air vice-marshals wife older than him by
10 years. Now one of the cardinal rules of life being 'Dont p*ss on a bigger dogs yard' this was ethically and strategically a singularly unwise activity and he was soon caught in a very 'compromising position' and rebuked very severly. While rules protected him from physical harm by his furious superior he was immediately transferred to a doghouse posting pushing files at supply office in agartala.

As tempers cooled down, it was realized that experienced Flanker pilots were still not a common item and a option was offered unofficially - he'd be brought back but only if he 'moderated' his behaviour. Two things were made clear at the outset - there would be no further promotions and any violation, even slight of the rulebook would result in a quick dishonourable
discharge. The air vice-marshal had his spies and was expected to keep
a hawk eye on his every movement, watching for slipups to skewer him.

So at 38 with no family(Manoj was now a full prof in Berkeley, married
to a american woman and held a US passport), little money, hated by
some superiors, barely tolerated by his base commander, a little aloof
from his peers and juniors though respected for his raw skills, no
immovable property and zero future prospects that kind of summed up Jakob's life situation. He did have a huge collection of diverse beer bottles.

The sortie tonight was to actively test out version6.0 of the MKI
avionics suite under the more sustained optempo of a deployment.
Introduced in Oct 2007, it brought in certain capabilities for ground
attack pods, improved SAR processing by the radar computer, a new
type of MFD 'pages', more automated ECM controls and finally the ability
to fly air-to-air missions using just one pilot for situation where the
WSO's were in short supply or needed to fly their own planes.

There were no Phalcons are guwahati. They were deployed far to the west
in central india. their primary GCI cover would be the big radar on
upper shillong peak. The profile called for multiple zig zag runs close
to the border, including some minor violations of airspace to test for
electronic or scramble responses if possible. Jacob had bitterly tried to
have the Phalcons co-located with the Flankers because they usually hunted as a pack and he knew many of the controllers from working with them regularly..but the Big Bosses in delhi would not run the risk of posting billion dollars of asset so close to where the *#^#^ing sinopaks could get at them either directly or through terrorists.

Flying with 70% internal fuel, the two Flankers with all lights off
sped like ghostly shadows at 10000ft over the meghalaya hills, economically cruising at 600kmph. Externally they presented a clean, spartan look..but hidden in the darkness under the wings & fuselage were 8 Adder missiles and another 4 Archers on the outboard wing pylons..this was not a fun mission.Inside the giant noses, the huge Bars radars lay warmed up but silent , ready at a moments notice to flick out electro-mechanically scanned beams to hundreds of kilometers. Far back on the fuselage, various classified ESM systems of indian origin hungrily sniffed the night air for any form of unknown signal..the WSOs quietly scanned their MFDs for signs of activity, but all was silent
- for the moment.

The mission computer had been programmed before departure with config files via a USB2 flash memory key...the track was to roughly follow the guwahati to shillong highway via nongpoh and barapani, then keep heading south over the east khasi hills, a left turn parallel to the border, then a wide loop over north cachar hills and central assam before heading west following the brahmaputra back to base.

As the pair of Flankers took off, the datalink modules in autodiscovery mode had already become active and discovered each other. transmit power was automatically modulated to the lowest setting because the planes were flying close together. A laser LOS datalink was in testing at ASTE-HAL but as of now the flankers had a radio datalink jointly worked on by DARE and Tadiran.

At 10:20 pm a few thousand feet below Jacob observed the bright lights of
shillong, WSO Biswas idly adjusted the Litening3 panel and zoomed in the
Shilling highway snaking through the green forests. First many trucks came into view, then individual trucks, then the door of a single tata truck
rumbling along at 40 kmph. Biswas smiled slightly and put the Litening into forward looking mode, the grey 3D terrain imagery coming slowly forward on the screen as they flew on through the night...

At 10:35 they were almost on the border and Jacob called a hard left turn
with wingman in close attendance, the canards and TVC momentarily came into play as the huge plane danced like feather in a gust of wind, then settled down again on its new heading...the mission computer was flying the plane on its own now, using waypoints read off the memory
key files. Jacob had the planes started speed up...the throttles pushed forward, flame leapt from the tailpipes as the afterburners engaged and fuel gushed in from the capacious tanks...900kmph...1100kmph...they crossed the border together and Jacob did another hard left turn,...30 seconds of level flight at 20,000ft...another hard right turn....30 secs..left again...the flankers flew a sawtooth pattern with the 'teeth' of the saw pointing over the border ....Biswas intently scanned his MFD for both passive and active data, NOTHING. 10 mins passed and even Jacob, always the one seeking a provocation was ready to
call it day and flit home to a warm meal and the bootleg six-pack of beer
he had stashed away in the parts warehouse..the Bars radar turned on 10 mins earlier scanned right and left, up and down in vain.

10:37 Biswas jumped in his seat as a american origin 3D radar known to be used by the pak air force came alive on his RWR and ESM, clearly id'ed by the threat library....he knew what was coming down the creek...the short range datalink carried the pic to the second Flanker which still had its radar quiet. Biswas spoke a couple of code words into the radio, pilot Das took in the situation and setup new pages on his MFD. a minute later, two red icons identified as "F-16(APG66)" appeared on the edge of all radar MFDs (Jacob, Biswas, Das and Kurian) and started closing at roughly 700kmph on a direct course for the Flanker pair.

"we have contact, execute engagement 0019" Jacob chose his words with some care, years of experience had taught him that *time* was never a problem even in the most frantic situation, *confusion* and *haste* bred mistakes, the more considered decisions were usually the best in this line of work and there being seldom a second chance to reverse a bad decision, he considered it better to take a few more moments than the hot-shit 26 yr old flanker newbies who came onboard and thought they had "arrived". A short sharp whipping during ACM exercises usually convinced these young "top guns" of the length and steepness of the path they had to climb to be even considered a serious 'player' in #20 lightnings. Some took it badly and never recovered their composure
and good sense. those that had the humility to keep learning made the cut.

Das flipped his plane into a 120' right turn and started climbing almost
vertically to 30,000ft, bars now active and like a alert hound scanning in
vertical mode with high elevations. Jacob pushed his throttle back and slowed down, meaintaining his heading into bangladesh, straight at the onrushing pair of F-16s. in the rear Biswas finished sending a encoded message on the satcom link data channel that hostile engagement was imminent and flipped his MFDs into the right pages for ACM. Ahead in the rear view mirror and bright moonlight he caught a glimpse of Jacobs eyes above the oxygen mask. It was hard to tell for sure in the semi-darkness but what he saw scared him thoroughly, though he was not a man to scare easily. He shuddered slightly and got busy on his WSO duties.

back at guwahati, four dark shadows raced out of a cement building into a
jeep, 1 min later they dropped off at a large shamiana coated with heat
reflective materials on both upper and lower surfaces. Underneath, hidden from the occasional satellite overpass the sleek black shapes of two Flankers awaited, the ground crew ready for strap-in and final checks already completed. years of training had honed this down to a fine art. At 10:42 PM the leader of the second pair released wheel brakes and moved into the taxiway.....

read this thread from the beginning if you are a newcomer - to get the right context.

[continued from yesterday - Sqdn ldr jacob abraham]

A minute later Das had climbed to 30kft and taken a position 90' off the
approach quadrant of the F-16 pair, both of whose radars were in full power now (they had no datalink), Jacob had slowed down to 400kmph and consulted his FLIR busily looking at the terrain ahead..a range of rolling hills with sharp cut river valleys..taking torrents of water south in the monsoon from the meghalaya hills. Distance to F-16s presently 100km continued to close, the big Bars easily able to track the inbound pair, while the F16s themselves could only know of hostile tracking via their RWR but the APG66 itself could not reach out that far...GCI commentary from the big 3D radar north of Dhaka guided them on...airspace had been violated blatantly...a lesson needed to be
taught!

jacob gave biswas 1 sec of warning to steel himself before executing a sickening vertical descent towards a narrow valley he had found on the FLIR heading in the general direction into the F-16s. for good measure he rolled the plane inverted and pulled back on the stick to make a reverse descent going towards india......the PAF radar operators noted the departing return and duly informed their wards. at a height of 1000ft over the hilltops when by his estimate he was already lost in the ground clutter Jacob did a 180' roll to get inverted and pulled back the stick again to execute a 180' change of direction heavily using the TVC, diving into the river valley and heading south again. Biswas grunted with the 7-G force and concentrated on his radar and ECM display, briefly he checked the BITE on the missile control panel..all looked fine. Flanker 027 speeded up
again to 500kmph as it sped between the bordering hills, barely 200ft above the narrow river below, biswas looked to the side, everything was a black and green blur as the forest sped by his canopy...the area seemed to be sparsely populated. Jacob had turned off the bars during the descent and now adjusted a few switches to take radar imagery from Das's flanker now at 30,000ft and mach1 which was blasting out at full power.

At 50km away, the F16 pair finally got the return of the high flying Flanker 029 piloted by Das which was off the side of their flying axis. Flt Lt. Nishar ahmed who was leading the pair faced a tough decision and debated what best to do, one of the Flankers had disappeared off the map and could be lurking anywhere in the ground clutter. His radar wasnt powerful enough to see very far and the 3D GCI radar backing him up could look not inside the numerous valleys in the hill ranges ahead. if they went after the high flyer the missing flanker could ambush them and vice versa. to top off the bad situation the low flanker wasnt even emitting anything on its radar so ESM direction finding was drawing a blank. he thought quickly back to his training and discussions with more senior pilots, and decided to stay together and climb after the high flanker - speed and height were always good to have if they had to withdraw. Flying officer Bashir heard the crisp orders over the radio and followed his leader into a spiral high speed climb towards 30kft from 20kft which they were flying now. He wasnt feeling to well about this, a heavy dinner of gosht before flying had him feeling a little sleepy too but orders were orders and it was his slot to fly.

Das saw them coming and used his hotas to get a good solid lock on both targets for the adder targeting system....inside the a/c electronic signals raced to the missiles pylons with inertial co-ordinates for the initial fly out. The a/c didnt even jerk as the two lean and long missiles went off the rails at a launch base velocity near mach1, they quickly accelerated to flying speed and started a descent into the initial co-ordinates. the approx distance at launch to the F-16 was 30km in a head-on engagement with closing speed of mach1.6

RWR tones blared in the F-16 as the raytheon systems ECM equipment detected both hostile targeting mode and the radar picked up the returns of the two new objects (adders) departing at mach4 from the red flanker icons on the screen. Ahmed swore a silent oath, cursing his superiors for screwing up on the BVR aspect and their constant heedless obsession with WVR ACM tactics...the chinese product should have been purchased much earlier...anyway the shit had hit the fan now and its was only him -vs- two flankers. bashir he had little confidence in, he was a rookie who had flown in the week before only because 3 senior pilots had taken ill after consuming slightly rotten hilsa from the local
supplier. He adjusted switches to have the ECM work at full power and ordered bashir to follow him in a series of orthogonal high speed turns designed to throw off the oncoming missiles.

At 15km away, the AGAT seeker on the Adders turned on and acquired targets at the edge of their scan area, quickly the missiles turned into a new intercept heading , climbing slightly to compensate for a faster than expected ascent by the F-16s.

Das unleashed the third Adder from a height of 31,000ft just as his
display showed the first Adder pair going active. Waiting 4 seconds to give
a good headstart he uncorked a AA-10 IR homing missile. The second pair had 13km to cover and started their screaming mach4 dive into the INS co-ordinates...the Adder going active almost immediately. He began a
series of ladder manouvers designed to keep him higher and faster than
the F-16s while still maintaining them within the azimuth of the bars. Behind him Kurian actively jammed the APG66 radar using a set of classified tools via his left MFD.

Jacob, 25,000ft below all this quietly observed the proceedings and did nothing to intervene though Biswas decided he would have gone up to help out Das if things didnt work out. He kept his thoughts to himself though, now wasnt the time to question the pack leader!

He needed have worried though because the old EW equipment on the F-16A was totally unable to deal with either the Bars or the Adders updated AGAT seekers......Ahmed was a superb flyer and tried what he could to the absolute 9G limit of the F-16 airframe, chaff dropped out launched by the EW system but the Adders seemed able to ignore that and kept turning with the F-16s. Young Bashir fell first, slightly mistiming a 90' turn ....the chasing Adder quickly calculated a potential hit in its nasty little brain and snap turned to close the corner...horrified Ahmed saw
a big fireball reflect on his canopy from about 5km to the side...he didnt have long to reflect on it as the other Adder had homed on him and was chasing in active mode. He flew to the edge of his life and had a narrow escape the Adder ran out of time and exploded harmlessly after missing a intercept turn. His RWR and radar MFD however warned him of another danger close by, turning his head and using the superb visibility of the F16 canopy he could make out two small blobs of light high above that seemed to be moving down to his height...he made a quick decision
to try and lose them in the hills below and pushed the throttle way forward, the light plane leapt forward and gained sone speed, Ahmed pointed the nose down into a -ve 45' dive at the ground below...he eased up expertly on the stick and moved in among a line of hills , .... he was moving too fast and with no FLIR he felt a cold chill as he felt his way down a valley...infront he saw a wall of hills with no pass and was forced to climb out skimming over the last hills treetops, the EW system shooting off periodic clouds of chaff.

Adder#3 and Alamo#1 had followed this descent and continued on down after the escaping plane. While the adder followed a straight line intercept geometry, diving into valley and following the cluttered return from the F-16, the AlamoIR spotted the blob of heat against the wet vegetation from well above the valley, predictor algorithms observed the movement of the target down the flight axis and sent the missile on a faster energy conserving path that flew over and along the valley faster than the F-16 could ever hope to fly. Just as Ahmed heaved a sigh at missing the treetops on the last ridge, the Alamo finally caught up with its
target and exploded 15m above the a.c shooting out deadly fragments from its pre-frag warhead in a sphere around the point of explosion. Ahmed caught the full force of the explosion through the vulnerable canopy and stood no chance. The F16s fuel tanks, holed in a hundred places by red hot fragments bloomed into a sad looking fireball as the a/c fell off controlled flight and made its last descent to the earth. The Adder#3 flew into the cloud of debris and lost its head, gliding and hitting the earth harmlessly three miles ahead.

Das observed the disappearance of both Falcons and started a descent to 20kft to form up on his flight leader. No words were exchanged because there was no need for any - the radar imagery was informative enough.

150km to the south, a second pair of F-16s on hot standby had started rolling the moment the first Falcon pair had commited to the intercept...Sqdn leader Sid and fl lt Mohammed were told to follow up and support the lead pair as needed. Shortly after takeoff however Mohammed reported radar module blackout and Sid ordered him to turn back. Worried about his juniors and knowing that Bashir was a relative newcomer he decided to press on by himself in support of
Ahmed who was his best friend in the squadron.

GCI radar chimed in a couple minutes after the missile hits to report the
disappearance of both Falcons, one Flanker visible and the second Flanker
still missing. He felt a bitter taste in his stomach .... two minutes later the
appearance of another Flanker pair was reported over the jaintia hills, both heading at mach1 in his general direction.

Meantime back at Dhaka, the Pak base commander was working the phone making a frantic phone call to his PLAAF counterpart in the other Dhaka airbase. A immediate request was made to scramble PLAAF planes and send them north to control the deteriorating situation. the chinese commander, roused from a sound sleep was in a sour frame of mind.. first these cheeky Paks precipitate a crisis by acting too aggressively for what was really minor incursion to bait them,then they respond with inferior platforms and finally squeal for help..vintage Paks he thought back to his military history classes. Thinking quickly he decided on his response..he had all of 10 night qualified experienced pilots in his two sqdn command..the cream of his flanker pilots were still in china, not deemed necessary for a posturing deployment or so it was thought. Plus there would be a hell to pay if the indians decided to press the issue and come calling to dhaka at night ..he had read reports of their training and knew in his heart his manpower wasnt as highly schooled. Screw the paks he thought nastily to himself and offered up the reason that many of his flightline was undergoing a vital repair work on landing gear and some of his senior pilots had flown to china the night before for a aerospace conference and show..so regretably the moment he was short on resources and would instead advise extreme caution. He wished the pak commander 'well' slyly and put the phone down. His next phone call was to the
air defence detachment to keep an eye out and provide as much warning as possible. His sukhoi pilots were rooted from their bunks and told to stay limber and alert all night. armourers started loading missiles and doing checks on 8 sukhois in the flightline just in case.

Sid took in the GCI picture and realized he needed to turn back with some
rapidity and head for cover. The three known flankers had ~30 missiles against his 6 IR homers and far better SA. Momemts before GCI cut in to call him back, he was already in a turn to the south...

halfway through his turn as he cut over a north-south valley he was horrified to hear the distinct tone of a radar lock on his RWR from *behind* his position. ...between him and safety. instinctively he fell back on training and executed a snappy left turn and increased speed...the sick tone of the RWR kept on ringing as the unseen enemy followed his moves silently and maintained lock. He turned slightly left and right and craned his neck to see any sign of the enemy behind him ... NOTHING....GCI came in now warning of a hostile right on his 6 of clock that kept on appearing and vanishing as it saw toothed off the ground clutter
field. His APG66 radar showed the second Flanker pair at 20,000ft and barely 50km ahead....off to his left the third flanker was closing fast on him...he tried to think back to exercises...to the tens of hours of discussions on these topics he had with the seniormost falcon gurus...some potential solutions emerged and were quickly discarded as unworkable in this scenario...time seemed to go faster and faster....he felt the cold hand of fear in the pit of his stomach.

"Good evening. This is to you in the F-16, listen carefully ..if you want to
live tonight- lower your undercarriage and fly at 500kmph@10kft on a course due north and await further instructions" ...a cold voice cut like a knife through his thoughts in the GCI channel(how the hell had they known how to intrude on this channel?)...his ears strained to catch anything further ...but NOTHING , the RWR kept its jarring tone. Sid tried everything he knew, throwing the F-16 violently all over the sky....1km
behind Sids plane, the black shadow of the Flanker its canards and TVC making several tens of minor adjustments every second under FCS control easily kept pace and cut every corner.

Biswas felt the vomit come to his mouth
as Jacob without any *emotion* threw the big plane into the most
sickening series of sustained turns he had ever experienced. A particular series of high-speed high-alpha moves almost blacked him out as he felt the tunnel vision beginning to form....not a word over the intercom from Jacob however...no swearing, no pumped up screaming, no emotion.
forcefully clearing his mind, he pushed back his vomit and focussed
on his 4 MFDs blanking out the world outside. They had both hot off the
rail IR and radar locks for 1 archer and 1 adder and kept manouvering to
maintain it consistently. Time slowed down, stood still almost.

Sid thought for a few moments on ways out this nightmare but just as in a stress interview - people forget everthying...his mind drifted to the disgrace of the act and how he had let down the proud traditions of his squadron...but he decided for the sake of his wife and kids not to die a futile hero.

At 10:55PM Sqdn ldr Sid lowered his undercarriage, climbed up to 10,000ft and flew north. Following radioed instructions he landed safely at guwahati airbase to a crowd of startled pilots 30 mins later.

Jacob, flew below the Falcon all the way..skimming the tops of the hills
with the bars keeping a steady eye on his ward. He kept one finger on the missile launch button and concentrated 90% of his mind cycles on figuring out how to get more supplies of bootleg alcohol into the base under the eyes of the hard-ass base commander and his puritanical attitude. He figured with tonights catch he was 'safe' for a week and smiled slighly under the mask, eyes taking on that strange blank look again. Das aborted his forming up intent at 20kft and instead lingered for 10 mins longer behind the formation to see if anything else came up. Seeing no activity he finally turned around headed home. The two fresh flankers were redirected to the west for a night exercise with the #1 Tigers flying from panagarh.

Biswas keenly trying to look at the forward rear view mirror at his boss's
face, rubbed some sweat off his brow and shuddered delicately again. Life with Mr. abraham wasnt for the faint of heart..he made a mental note to go in for a physical first thing tomorrow. These night cat and mouse games he didnt like, open fighting he could take....

Flanker 027 landed last, at 11:15PM after a short detour to graciously let his junior Das land and soak up all the cheering by the crowd of mechanics and pilots who had gathered in the hanger.

When the huge Saturn engines finally spooled to a stop, Jacob came down, totally ignored the people around him, mounted a bicycle and cycled out slowly towards the pre-fab housing allocated to him. the base
cmdr let him go, paperwork could wait...and there was not much to say
anyway. Throwing the rulebook after a successful night hunt would look
comical.

Some suggestion for reconsideration:
1. "Jacob did a 180' barrel roll"
2. l"pushed the throttle way forward, the light plane leapt forward in a 80' dive at the ground below" seems unusual flight bevaiour you mean elevator?
3. "The three known flankers" I thought tthe second pair war reported earlier over Jaintia hiils

Arun_S, I shall fix these details. (3) is that the 3D GCI radar had spotted
the 2nd pair over the Jaintia hills and informed Sqdn Ldr Sid over the radio.
So he sure as hell knew about it before his own APG66 picked them up at
the fag end - right before his surrender.

hardcore in what sense ? PAF is not generally considered to be a islamist org
so jihadi feelings would be much less than the general population.
ejection is a bad experience in the best of circumstances, trying it at night
over the thick forests of the meghalaya foothills is a bad idea - you could easily entangle yourself and die hanging off a tree miles from any human, drown in the numerous rivers or just fall into some ravine somewhere and never be seen again. there aint no SARBE in the PAF and no CSAR deployed
with the BD detachment - all 3rd world airforces tend to skimp on these 'extras'.

He could either fight and die or give up. Escape clearly wasnt an option
and with two different types of missiles locked on his tail and surrounded by
a superior enemy, he decided to call it a day BECAUSE IT WAS NOT HIS COUNTRY OR PEOPLE UNDER THREAT ALSO. He could expect based on
past record, a fair treatment at hands of IAF and a quick return via the
Red Cross. so he would probably lose his job in sargodha - big deal , being alive beats being dead anyday. A man of talent can seek other avenues even in TSP.

I am not saying EVERY person in the same situation would decide that
way, but SOME will. Sqdn ldr Sid falls into that bucket. Some will prefer to die trying to escape.

People respond in many different ways to stress. There is no one answer.

MT I am currently writing a series of scripts on India's defenders, I am greatly interested in this Jacob character. Could you email me and send me more information about him, or how you would like to see him grow pls I am currenly writiting a script on the north-east! I do not know if anything will come of it, but it is a good time-killer! Please contact me at k underscore awtani at hotmail.com!!

I really like MT's scenario building. I went back and read this thread right from the start. Rudra, if I may suggest, I think you should include this type of reasoning and psychological analysis (quoted below) of the PAF and PLAAF within the story, so that the reader knows why the PAF guy didn't bailout. Atleast in some cases if not all to keep the story tight enough.

Keep up the good work, and more importantly keep it flowing.. thanks..

Rudra Singha wrote:hardcore in what sense ? PAF is not generally considered to be a islamist orgso jihadi feelings would be much less than the general population. ejection is a bad experience in the best of circumstances, trying it at nightover the thick forests of the meghalaya foothills is a bad idea - you could easily entangle yourself and die hanging off a tree miles from any human, drown in the numerous rivers or just fall into some ravine somewhere and never be seen again. there aint no SARBE in the PAF and no CSAR deployedwith the BD detachment - all 3rd world airforces tend to skimp on these 'extras'.

He could either fight and die or give up. Escape clearly wasnt an optionand with two different types of missiles locked on his tail and surrounded bya superior enemy, he decided to call it a day BECAUSE IT WAS NOT HIS COUNTRY OR PEOPLE UNDER THREAT ALSO. He could expect based on past record, a fair treatment at hands of IAF and a quick return via the Red Cross. so he would probably lose his job in sargodha - big deal , being alive beats being dead anyday. A man of talent can seek other avenues even in TSP.

I am not saying EVERY person in the same situation would decide thatway, but SOME will. Sqdn ldr Sid falls into that bucket. Some will prefer to die trying to escape.

People respond in many different ways to stress. There is no one answer.

Sorry but it is well known that Puki Army DID MORPH long time ago and since then have abandoned honour as virtue or guiding principle. Please see Air Chief Marshal SK Mehra's comments in
http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/MONITOR/I ... aruns.htmland his distaste for a dishonerable adversary.

MT Singha wrote:As always the warriors of all sides have honour and dignity even in death. The real scumbags are the 'leaders' who commit good men to suicidal missions.

The Pak base commander was relieved of his command the next morningduring a teleconference with Air commodore Husnain in Sargodha.

and I thought the crafty PLAAF commander was a nice touch, itsjust their style to cut ANYONE loose if they sense too much danger!

Rudra Singha wrote:hardcore in what sense ? PAF is not generally considered to be a islamist orgso jihadi feelings would be much less than the general population. ejection is a bad experience in the best of circumstances, trying it at nightover the thick forests of the meghalaya foothills is a bad idea - you could easily entangle yourself and die hanging off a tree miles from any human, drown in the numerous rivers or just fall into some ravine somewhere and never be seen again. there aint no SARBE in the PAF and no CSAR deployedwith the BD detachment - all 3rd world airforces tend to skimp on these 'extras'.

He could either fight and die or give up. Escape clearly wasnt an optionand with two different types of missiles locked on his tail and surrounded bya superior enemy, he decided to call it a day BECAUSE IT WAS NOT HIS COUNTRY OR PEOPLE UNDER THREAT ALSO. He could expect based on past record, a fair treatment at hands of IAF and a quick return via the Red Cross. so he would probably lose his job in sargodha - big deal , being alive beats being dead anyday. A man of talent can seek other avenues even in TSP.

I am not saying EVERY person in the same situation would decide thatway, but SOME will. Sqdn ldr Sid falls into that bucket. Some will prefer to die trying to escape.

People respond in many different ways to stress. There is no one answer.

Rudra,
You have the uncanny ability to "nail them in the head". Are you sure you were not a soldier in your previous life. JK.

thanks for good wishes folks, I tend to go for characters that dont like following any 'rules' , more in favour of getting the job done.
I thought Das cut a good figure too - all speed, firepower and intimidation - a bring-it-on kind of guy.

MT, Could Father Thomas belong to the order of "Brothers of St Gabriel"? That way it would honor an outstanding Kerala Catholic order that has run schools in Andhra Pradesh including St Gabriels in Kazipet and St. Pauls, All Saints, Little Flowers in Hyderabad among others. Thanks.

I took it from the headmasters name in my own school. a Keralite of the Salesian order (they run don bosco and st. marys schools & hostels among others I think) and a very able administrator. last I heard he had moved on
to some powerful post in the vatican itself.
http://www.salesianmissions.org/aroundtw/asia/india/

Guwahati - a teeming city of one million souls had one major drawback.
Lack of habitable land. The brahmaputra to the north and the narakasur
hills just 5km to the south constrained the fast growing city into a belt of
40km length along the river, never more than 10km wide to its widest
point near dispur where the hills arced away into the interior. Formerly
almost the entire present area of the city had lakes(beels) and little rivers
interconnecting these lakes which teemed with fish and wild plants. They
served the purpose of storm water reservoirs during the incessant
monsoon rains too. As the population grew, people started cutting earth
from the hills, dumping them into the wetlands and building houses
and commercial establishments. The hills, once rich with bamboo groves
and hundreds of tree varieties stood denuded and settled by thousands of
ethusiastic land grabbers and displaced rural folk who cut themselves
little ledges on which to built their huts. Every spell of rain was
accompanied by landslides that swept down a few huts and
buried their occupants alive. The streets which were designed for a 1950s
traffic density had seldom been widened to keep up with the times and
now choked with one of the highest densities in India. The one prospect of
a good thruway in the city, that of converting the railway lines into a road
and shifting the railway around the city had been stillborn due to NFR
officials loath to give up their prime property in the heart of town.

Into this shaky situation came lakhs of bangladeshis and other settlers
from places like Bihar. Having no wealth to buy into the increasingly
expensive property, shunned socially by the locals, blamed for every
calamity, yet essential at the bottom of the service industry pyramid they
gravitated together and formed their own ghettos - unruly patches of land
where thousands of people dwelled in a area fit for a few hundred, where
kids with running noses and open sores played with semi-feral pigs in
open gutters, where the gutter water itself was used to wash clothes and
utensils because there *was* no other source of water, listless men lay
around in a drug induced haze all day rubbing the needle marks on their
arms ....waking as dusk fell to beat their hardworking wives for money to
buy the next 'puria' of charas or heroin or sexually & physically abusing
their spouses if the mood took them. The Hand of the Law, feeble as it
was in the NE never ventured into these dark corners...slum lords, with
solid political connections controlled n managed the myriad of illegal small
industries that flourished here - pickles, textiles, cheap plastics, recycling
of hazardous waste, slavery, prostitution, furniture, spurious auto parts,
illegal gun & countrymade bomb shops, alcohol, ice cream and so on. Prosperous colonies of flies and other vermin made a comfortable living for 'food' was in plenty, small but vicious packs of criminalized children 'piranhas' trained and then deployed into more prosperous parts of the city for their days quota of picking pockets and snatching bags. Beggars
and homeless people milled around in the hope of getting a job or finding a place to erect a shanty...... These were not places that displayed the best aspects of humanity. The ageless law of the jungle prevailed, the strong eating the weak, the old and the unlucky.

At the southernmost edge of guwahati, the Bharalu river cut a course
parallel to the narakasur hills until it curved north and fell into the
brahmaputra at a place quite aptly named bharalu-mukh (mouth of the
bharalu). Between the river and the hills there lay a belt of land about 1
km wide , formerly fallow land, forests or beels - now taken
over into a patchwork of ghettos and illegal slums that defied any form
of order. Lakhs of bangladeshi migrants, poverty stricken migrants from
other eastern states of india and their slum lords called it Home.

One such locality was fatasil ambari. there were others too like
dhirenpara, but fatasil was the biggest and most well known.

To its rather inglorious attributes one may add two more - it had a lot of
godowns used to store food and manufactured products by the
city wholesale marketeers. It was far cheaper to maintain a dilapidated
godown here than anywhere else in the city - competition to own a
residential address here was a tad low as in nonexistent, the people who
called it home could not afford to call any other place home. For the food
wholesellers who stockpiled hundreds of tons of sacks here to distribute
to all the NE states, there was the added incentive of being well outside
the public eye to adulterate and violate every norm of safe storage. Rats
as big as bobcats roamed the streets and ramshackle godowns, boldly
gnawing at anything including unprotected toes that dared tread
into their domain. At night , after 9:00 PM when trucks were allowed to
transit the city, hundreds of 10-ton trucks (loaded as usual to breaking
point of 15 tons) growled in from the highway to the west and crowds of
shouting labour struggled to unload and load before the 6:00 AM deadline for trucks to stop moving on city streets. Pungent diesel fumes and the
fetid stench of the bharalu river carrying the raw sewage of the city made
the atmosphere quite unpleasant. Any hardy non-residents who dared to brave such hardships had the added prospects of two scary looking graveyards that abutted the locality to the north. strange things were known to have happened there.

The second notable attribute was its population type which was almost
entirely 100% ex-bangladeshi muslim unlike the more mixed Dhirenpara
to the west. Inevitably this meant a certain ghetto mentality, a sense of
victimhood and insecurity, a score of unregistered mosques and
madrasas that nobody in power dared touch, mysterious wandering
tabliqs who came and went from God knows where and teeming crowds
who could be roused to fury and rioting when the clarion call went out
from the loudspeaker inside the nearest minaret.

Blessed with such stellar qualities and a place where outsiders stuck out like sore thumbs but true believers(!) could always fit in with no questions asked or answers given, it was the ideal place for the guwahati
chapter(s) of the ISI cell structure.

There were actually two cells, one of which planned and undertook the
first wave of attacks in guwahati including assacination of the chief minister. This group of talented 'individual contributors' and their project
manager had departed for bangladesh immediately after their job was
done. The second cell had no knowledge or contact with the first and
was instructed to lie low and do nothing until the call came to their conference number via the STD booth one of them owned.

So they waited. On February 20, the call came and they gathered at
11PM inside the darkened and evil smelling innard of a rice godown that
was closed for the night. A single tata truck and three occupants
were waiting. The local leader, a quiet thoughtful person by the name
of Hakim had brought along his autorickshaw (was his livelihood, cover
and day job) and a wooden crate about 30 inches long and 10 inches
wide was carefully put in the back and covered with oily rags. All
of them left in the auto and a old tata sumo purchased for cash from
a local taxi company.

Two people remained, Hakim and the truck driver who was a native of
dhubri and had been hired three days before at the local truck stand.
Hakim offered him food, hot tea from a thermos and small talk and
wished him well for the return journey.

As the driver finished his meal, gurgled his mouth noisily and made
off to climb into the drivers cabin , Hakim with some regret and
a silent player put a bullet in his head. Making sure to finish
his prayer for the departed soul completely, he gingerly carried the
still warm corpse into the cabin and dumped it between the drivers
seat and the second row of seats.

20 mins later the truck emerged from the area and took the guwahati
shillong road towards shillong. It took 45 mins to climb the steep
hairpin bends towards Jorabat and start another series of hairpin
descents towards jagiroad. Hakim warmed himself with some hot tea
at jorabat and made a cellphone call. A biker wearing a warm shawl
soon joined him and followed his truck from jorabat. Once they reached
the predetermined spot, Hakim stopped the truck on a sloping shoulder
and shifted to neutral, nimbly jumping off as the truck rolled forward
and fell 200 mts into the ravine below. Seater comfortably on the
bike pillion, they headed back to guwahati.

The police would winch the truck up by next evening, but there would
be no post mortem. The local police sub-inspector had been
compensated. For good measure Hakim had compensated the local Govt
doctor also.

After a simple meal at 3:30AM , Major Hakim of the ISI fell into
a shallow REM sleep. His thoughts tumbled around at first then began to
order themselves.....memories of his honeymoon at Muree..oh it had
been so beautiful with Anisa......then the pain came and the rage and
tension built up in his heart again.